


Finding Inigo

by clicky797



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Fates/Awakening crossover, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nah drugging people for love, Post-Fire Emblem Fates: Revelation, Prince Inigo, Some Xanlas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7214833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clicky797/pseuds/clicky797
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Inigo begins to have doubts about Gerome's dedication to their relationship, Nah decides there's only one rational thing to do: trick Gerome into thinking his beloved has been taken by slavers, so Inigo can see he's wrong. Of course, it doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I shouldn't be starting a new multi-chaptered fic when Dance For Me hasn't been updated in forever, but...

No one had been as excited as Nah when Inigo finally revealed that he and Gerome were a couple. Of course, it hadn’t been much of a surprise to her. It was quite obvious that they liked each other more than just friends. 

Her first clue had been when she’d heard Gerome had actually gone with him to try and pick up girls. _Gerome?_ That quiet, dark, brooding mask that had a cynical young man attached to it? Going out with the smiling, flirtatious and bright dancer? Never mind the fact that Gerome _never_ went out with anyone, he’d actually allowed Inigo to drag him into a situation that had to be his worst nightmare? It was fishy, alright. Nah couldn’t imagine why...

And then, a few weeks later, she heard that Inigo had allowed Gerome to attend his secret dance practise in the forest. He didn’t even let his own mother attend those, and she doted on him more than anyone! Not only that, but Gerome actually agreed to attend! He wanted to watch Inigo dance. And Inigo wanted him to watch him dance. And... oh. _Oh!_

So that’s how Nah had realised that relationship was quietly blossoming. She still acted surprised when Inigo let her in on the secret. She was flattered to have been one of the first to be told (although it may have had something to do with the fact she was threatening to eat him at the time) and it gave her endless joy to hear her suspicions confirmed. Inigo was the kindest and most selfless guy she knew. He deserved to be happy. And Gerome was a naive but emotionally-repressed sweetie. He needed someone to shower with all the love he’d been saving up over the years. By Naga, did it deserve to be Inigo. 

Such was her dedication to seeing her two friends living happily ever after together, that she appointed herself the unofficial guardian of their relationship. Alongside Minerva, of course, who she soon learned had been helping her idiotic rider to realise his feelings towards Inigo ever since their reunion. It was probably a reptile trait, she decided, to sense that two people belonged so obviously together. 

So with Minerva as her back-up, Nah set her sights on anyone who might be an obstacle to Inigo and Gerome’s happiness. She had a checklist of potential candidates in her head. _Lucina - Inigo’s overprotective sister. Owain - who tends to get a little too friendly towards Inigo. Noire - with her tendency to get obsessive and stalk Inigo._ Actually, it seemed most of the trouble would be caused by Inigo’s friends and admirers. That’s what Nah thought. Which is why she was so surprised one day when she was walking through the trees that surrounded their camp. She’d been on her way to fetch water from the lake, when she overheard Gerome’s raised voice.

“... even care? You’re a prince, dammit! Your safety is paramount to the survival of the kingdom!”

“You don’t have to talk at me like I’m seven years old, Gerome!”

_Ooh._ Nah ducked into the bushes and tried to shuffle closer to the noise without causing too much sound. But both men were far too caught up in their argument to notice her eyes peering from the bushes. 

“I do if you’re going to act like a child,” Gerome said. 

Wow, Nah had never seen him so worked up. His brown hair, which was normally slicked back perfectly, was erratic and messy in some places. _Almost as if someone had just had their hands in it_ , Nah thought slyly. But then she noticed Inigo was not at all disheveled. She’d had the delight of encountering him on his way back from... _activities_ with Gerome. Ruffled hair, red lips, a faraway look in his eyes, creased collar, tunic buttoned incorrectly. Now, he just looked irritated. Which was definitely not how one should look during a secret romantic forest encounter. _Uh oh._

“I can’t believe you!” Inigo moaned, and now his hands were grasping his own hair in despair. “Of all the things to have a big emotional response to, this is what you choose to go mad about? I only tried to kiss you!”

“In front of your parents!” Gerome added loudly. “While we were on procession through a forest that is notorious for housing thieves and slavers! You can’t distract me like that while I’m trying to do my job.”

Nah shook her head. Gerome was his father’s son alright. She could imagine Frederick having a similar conversation with Chrom, although their’s would be less of a lover’s quarrel. 

“Are you sure that’s what it is?” Inigo sneered. “Or were you just ashamed of sharing a kiss with your boyfriend in front of the other Shepherds? They all know we’re together!”

Nah saw the edges of Gerome’s cheeks that weren’t covered by his mask turn scarlet.   

“I’m your knight, Inigo,” he said, quieter now. “I have sworn my life to protect you. It is my duty to keep you safe.”

“Oh,” Inigo huffed. “So you’re calling me a burden now, are you?”

“I didn’t say...”

“You may as well have! A duty and a burden are pretty much the same thing.”

Inigo looked down at the ground, biting his lip. Nah clenched her hands. If this was going to end in sweet apologies and heavy kisses, then they needed to start backtracking. And soon! 

“I love you,” Inigo said, lifting his head again, but now, to Nah’s horror, his eyes were shimmering. “I don’t want you as my knight. I want you as my boyfriend. How can we be together if you’re constantly looking for danger?”

Gerome frowned, and Nah could tell that he really did feel bad about the situation. But she also knew that he took things like duty seriously. Too seriously. 

“In fact,” Inigo continued, and he was really working himself up to tears now. “Do you even have feelings for me? I’ve told you I love you so many times, but you never say it back. Is that just another part of your duty? Give the prince whatever he wants to keep him happy? Huh? Is it?”

“Inigo! Please! You’re shouting.”

“Because I care! You’d be shouting too if you really...”

“Inigo!”

Gerome held Inigo by the shoulders, drawing him close. But not close enough to kiss him. Nah frowned. 

“Be calm,” Gerome said quietly. “Please. Our presence in this forest has so far gone unnoticed. Loud noises could endanger the whole camp.”

“Then kiss me,” Inigo breathed. “ _Please_.”

Inigo’s eye grew lidded, inviting. This was the perfect moment... but Gerome couldn’t take his damn eyes off the trees around them. What did he think was going to jump out? A damn dragon?! Yes, that was a possibility, but only if he didn’t start making Inigo feel better soon. 

“Gerome,” Inigo whimpered.

“I can’t,” Gerome said, lowering his arms. 

“Yes you can.”

“No. This isn’t... I refuse to be the first one in my family to fail Ylisse. It’s important.”

_It’s more important to me than my love for you._ That was the underlying message that Nah assumed Inigo heard in these words. The prince’s face went pale, and he stared at his knight as if he’d taken off his mask and revealed a third eye. Nah wanted to hit her head against a tree. _Dammit, Gerome! What are you doing?!_ She hadn’t prepared for something like this. She’d always been so sure that any trouble to their relationship would come from other people. Like Noire. 

An uncomfortable silence had settled over them both. Gerome shifted awkwardly under Inigo’s stare. He looked at the sky. 

“It’s getting dark,” he said. “We should head back to camp.”

“You go,” Inigo said. “I... I need...”

Maybe Gerome realised Inigo was on the verge of tears, and had visions of another time when he’d been forced to comfort him. He backed away, towards the forest. 

“I’m going to scout the area,” he told Inigo. “Please don’t stay out for too long.”

He lifted his arm, and for a moment Nah hoped he’d pull the prince in for a quick kiss, or put a comforting hand on his shoulder. However, the hand hesitated in midair, trembled slightly, and then Gerome just used it to smooth down the messy patches of his hair. Nah could see Inigo’s fists shaking beside him. Clearly he was trying to hold himself together until Gerome had gone. 

_Just go then!_ Nah wanted to call to him, because boy was the masked idiot taking his sweet time. He clearly had more to say, but he just... couldn’t say it. For whatever reason. Finally, he huffed out a frustrated sigh and slunk away into the forest. Only when he was gone did Inigo’s legs collapse beneath him. The prince sunk down into a pile of misery and silent tears. It was just too damn pitiful for Nah. She tried to wiggle her way out of the bush without attracting any attention, but Inigo’s eyes found her after the first rustle. 

“Nah?” he said, voice thick with distress. “How long have you been in there?”

“Long enough,” Nah said, standing and picking the leaves from her hair.

She plonked herself down at Inigo’s side, putting one of her tiny hands on his arm in what she hoped would be a comforting manner. 

“I saw everything,” she admitted. 

Inigo sighed. 

“I don’t know what happened,” he said. “He was so sweet in the beginning. He brought me fresh flowers every morning and carried me home from taverns when I had too much to drink. He would smile at me and laugh and kiss me till I was breathless. But now... I don’t know anymore, Nah.”

Nah noticed Inigo was fiddling with a woven band around his wrist. It was black with random threads of blue and purple running through, and she instantly knew this was something Gerome had made for him. At any other time she’d get all gushy over it.

“Anytime I try to do something with him he looks at me coldly or pushes me away. He won’t smile at me. He spends most of the night sitting at the foot of the bed. When he comes to watch me dance, I see he’s not even watching me half the time. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think. It’s almost like he... he...”

_No! Don’t say it!_ Nah had to act quickly, or else everything could come to an end right here and now. 

“He loves you so much,” she said quickly. 

Inigo looked at her as if she were insane.

“I’m telling the truth, you know,” she insisted. “When you’re not near him he always looks worried and restless. He gets up early to secure your favourite food for breakfast before it’s all gone. Why, the other day I saw him sparring against Kjelle because she said something bad about you.”

Inigo’s eyes narrowed as he listened to her words.  
  
“That isn’t love,” he spat. “Frederick does similar things for my father every day.”

The woven band was off his wrist now and clenched tightly in his hand. He stood so quickly that Nah almost lost her balance. She stood too, holding up her hands to stop him from doing whatever it was he was about to do. 

“You just have to trust me on this, okay,” she begged him. “He loves you. I know he does. It’s Gerome though! You know how he is. Just because he’s appalling at showing it, it doesn’t mean...”

Inigo threw the woven band into the trees. Nah’s keen eyes followed its movement. She rushed over to where it had fallen, snatching it up like dropped food from ants. Over her shoulder, she saw Inigo turn to leave. Her heart sank. _No. This can’t be the end. They can’t break up. Not like this!_ But she had seen it written plainly on Inigo’s face. He didn’t believe that Gerome loved him.

Well then, Nah decided. She would just have to show him he was wrong. 


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Nah needed to do was to take care of Inigo. If her plan was going to work, he couldn’t be seen wondering around camp by the others. So she snuck into Tharja’s tent, where she knew she’d be able to find a sleeping potion or two. Then she went to the mess tent to fetch a couple of cups and some tea. There was no way Inigo would refuse tea offered by a cute girl like herself. 

As Nah waited for the tea to brew, she couldn’t help but admire how well stocked the mess tent seemed today. Fresh fruit and vegetables, smoked joints of meat, thick bunches of herbs and spices. A large pot of stew was boiling over a flame, with round, juicy mushrooms bobbing on the surface. Maybe Chrom had sent a group to replenish from a nearby village, or perhaps they’d been fortunate enough to stumble across a trader in the forest? Either way, dinner would be good tonight. 

When the tea was finally ready, Nah tipped a few drops of the sleeping potion into one of the cups. It disappeared into the dark blend like a drop of ink. She added milk to the other. Now she only needed one last thing: a secluded place where the prince could sleep undisturbed until she fetched him. For this, she selected a small wagon at the edge of their camp, painted a vibrant red and yellow and decorated with wreaths of herbs and garlic. It was filled with plenty of sacks of supplies which would be comfortable for Inigo to sleep on. She carefully set down the cups and went to fetch her friend. 

“Inigo!” she sung, as she pulled back the flap of his tent. “Lovely, come have tea with me, will you?”

But he wasn’t in his tent. Nah grumbled under her breath and scanned the camp. Noire and Kjelle were sitting around the fire, while Vaike was laughing boisterously at his own joke. Henry was helping Stahl and Frederick carry some crates to the supply tent, and Chrom and Lucina were leading a tall man that she didn’t recognise towards one of the larger tents. Then she caught a glimpse of dark blue hair moving towards the trees. _There he is._

She ran over before he could get too far, aware of Noire’s eyes following her across the camp. 

“Inigo,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. “Where are you going?”

The prince turned to her, flashing one of his usual smiles. This one seemed particularly forced though, she thought. 

“Why I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere with such a lovely vision standing before me,” he drawled. 

_Oh, Naga! He’s reverting to his old, flirtatious self!_ There had definitely been a decrease in Inigo’s terrible pick up lines since he’d been with Gerome, so it worried Nah to see him resorting to it so effortlessly now. It was almost as if he’d decided the relationship was already over. 

“How about we go have some tea together,” Nah suggested, trying to not to sound too overenthusiastic. 

If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that Inigo could be scared away if you started showing too much interest in him. 

“I know this lovely little spot where we can overlook the flowers.”

“Lead the way, my lady.”

So Nah snuck Inigo over to the lovely wagon and gave him his tea. Once he’d drunk it, the effect of the sleeping potion was almost instant. His eyelids drooped shut and his body went limp. She made sure he looked comfortable before hopping out the wagon and drawing the curtain across the opening. 

“Don’t you worry,” Nah smiled. “When you wake up your perfect relationship will be fixed.”

The next thing Nah needed to do was stage a struggle in the forest. Ideally in the spot where she’d first heard Gerome and Inigo arguing. However, as she was on her way over to the trees, she was stopped by the Exalt himself. 

“Chrom!” she squealed in surprise.

“Hello, Nah,” Chrom said. 

The tall man was a few paces behind him, talking to Lucina. He was dressed in brightly coloured silks and had a coin pouch around his neck. Nah now knew where all their fresh supplies had come from. This man was a trader, though quite an exotic one. The style of clothes he wore definitely didn’t originate in Ylisse. 

“Have you seen Inigo anywhere?” Chrom asked. “Our guest is departing soon and he hasn’t even greeted him yet. It’s ill-mannered behaviour for a prince.”

“Sorry, I haven’t,” Nah said, looking anywhere but into the Exalt’s blue eyes. “Maybe he’s with Gerome? He went scouting.”

“Of course he’s with Gerome,” Chrom muttered bitterly. 

Nah’s eyes narrowed. _Do I have to put you on the list too? Chrom - does not approve of relationship._

“I’ll tell him to come find you if I see him return,” she offered sweetly. 

“Please do,” Chrom said. “I’ll have plenty to say to him, I assure you.”

Nah twisted her lips as she watched him return to the stranger’s side, grasping his hand in what was probably a customary farewell. She did feel bad for getting Inigo into trouble... maybe if everything worked out well she’d confess to drugging him and take whatever punishment Chrom had in store for him. That way, he and Gerome would have the rest of the day to...

_Whoa! One step at a time!_ She still had to set the scene first, but boy was she sure it’d work to perfection. Gerome was paranoid that Inigo would get into trouble? Well, let him think something terrible had happened. Let him think Inigo had been taken by slavers because he’d left him alone in the forest. And then wake Inigo so he could watch Gerome pouring despair into the soil at the thought of never seeing him again. That would show Inigo he was loved. And the relief of seeing Inigo unharmed would definitely snap Gerome out of whatever protective mode he’d gotten himself into. Their relationship could go back to the sweet thing it’d been. And then Nah could be happy that they were happy again. Everybody would win!

_But how to make it look convincing?_

Once Nah had reached the correct area, she kicked the dead leaves from the floor. Then she stamped and kicked whilst wearing the pair of Stahl’s boots that she’d borrowed, marking the soil with a blur of large prints. She snapped some of the surrounding branches. She disturbed the bushes so it looked like someone had sprung from one. She ran her fingers along the ground as if someone had been desperately trying to cling to it. And then, as the final measure, she dropped the woven band, that Inigo had thrown away, right in the center of the chaos.

_Perfect!_

  

Gerome returned to the camp just as the sun was beginning to set. He had forced himself to stay out longer than necessary as a form of punishment. In the solitude of the forest, with no thieves or slavers anywhere in sight, he finally allowed himself to admit that maybe he had been a little paranoid. Maybe he had overreacted when Inigo tried to kiss him... _Inigo_. He felt his stomach turn sour at the thought of Inigo’s face when he’d left him - miserable, broken, devastated. He had been too harsh on his boyfriend. He needed to find him and make amends. 

Gerome took his place at the edge of the campfire, close enough to his own tent that he could throw scraps of food to Minerva. His wyvern was currently sleeping, curled around his tent like a mother hen. She had been unwell for the past few days, but Lissa and Cherche had both assured him she was making a speedy recovery. A few days of walking along with no one on her back had worked wonders for her. Sensing his presence, the wyvern’s eyes opened slightly. She growled softly at him, but then her head rose and she cocked it to one side. Clearly, she was wondering why he was alone. Gerome sighed. Sometimes she was too smart for her own good...

“Evening, Gerome.”

Noire slid into the space that was normally reserved for Inigo. On any other night, Gerome would force her to move. But he doubted Inigo would sit here tonight. Where was he sitting then? Gerome craned his neck but couldn’t spot him. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Noire asked slyly, as if she knew something he didn’t. “Our precious prince has been peculiarly absent today. That wouldn’t be your doing, would it?”

Gerome said nothing. She already knew the answer. It just pleased her to hear that his relationship with Inigo wasn’t perfect. She believed she could do better. _I’ll never give you the chance to find out if that’s true._

“Where is Inigo?” Gerome asked. “Have you seen him?”

“Not recently. Last I saw he was going for tea with Nah.”

“And where is Nah.”

“I’m here!”

Gerome’s hand tightened on his axe as Nah’s voice came from over his shoulder, almost making him fall from his seat. Noire chuckled.

“Are you looking for Inigo?” the manakete asked eagerly, eyes alight with excitement. “I haven’t seen him since he went off to practise his dancing.”

“Practise?” Gerome said, heart sinking. _Without me?_

“Yep!” Nah beamed. “Although that was a while ago, actually. And I haven’t seen him since.”

Gerome counted to five before standing slowly. He didn’t want the others to pick up on the panic that was sinking into his body. Inigo was probably fine. He always lost track of the time during dance practise. And hadn’t his scouting session just proven to him that this part of the forest was perfectly safe? Still, he had an urge to find the prince as soon as possible.

“Minerva,” he said, approaching his wyvern. “Come on.”

As Minerva climbed to her feet, Noire also stood. 

“What is it?” she demanded. 

“I don’t know what you mean. Minerva enjoys watching Inigo dance...”

“You didn’t speak to her as softly as you think you did,” Noire said. “That was an order just now. Like you were taking her into battle.”

Gerome didn’t have time for this. He started walking towards the trees, Minerva’s footfalls a comforting sound behind him. To his dismay, Noire and Nah were also following him. Inigo was going to die of embarrassment if any of them saw him. 

But it didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter who came, because Inigo wasn’t there when they arrived. As soon as Gerome caught site of the familiar band on the ground, he rushed towards it and fell on his knees. He’d made this for Inigo. It was a symbol of his feelings for the other man, something Inigo had promised to keep with him always. But now it was just lying in the middle of...

Then Gerome saw the overlapping footprints in the mud. Random and in every direction, indicating a struggle. Plus there were finger marks in the ground, and broken branches, and... and... 

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED IN THIS UNHOLY PLACE?” Noire thundered, her entire face crumpling into one of rage. 

Nah stayed silent by her side, eyes wide and on Gerome. 

“Was it... was it slavers?” she asked. 

No. Gerome felt his hands shaking. That wasn’t possible! He’d scouted the area! He’d checked everywhere! There wasn’t a band of slavers for a mile around them. And even if there had been... and Inigo had been attacked... he’d have heard him shout... he’d have known he was in danger... right? Right?!

“BLOOD AND THUNDER!” Noire shouted. “THOSE WRETCHES WILL RUE THE DAY THEY SET THEIR SIGHTS UPON HIM!”

“This is awful!” Nah exclaimed. “Wait here! I need to fetch help!”

She was backing away before she’d finished speaking. She was going to turn and run and...

“No!” Gerome barked, standing quickly enough to make his knees ache. “There’s no time!”

Nah’s face went pale. The corner of her mouth twitched. 

“But... but we need...”

“Minerva!”

Minerva was immediately by Gerome’s side, awake and furious on behalf of her rider. He leapt onto her back, the band still clenched tightly in his palm. To think that they’d... to think that someone had...

“Noire! Are you with me?” Gerome asked firmly. 

Noire’s response was to climb on behind him. She’d released her grip on her talisman, but her face was still one of unspeakable fury. Good.

“Wait!” Nah exclaimed, raising her hands. “You guys, we can’t go without telling anyone! They’ll worry! Look, wait here for just one moment! I’ll go let someone know that we’re...”

Gerome shook his head. No one could know about his failure. He could only imagine the looks on his father’s face. And as for Chrom and Lucina... he’d lose much more than his knighthood at the hands of Inigo’s sister.

“Are you with us, Nah!” he demanded, aware that every second that passed lessened their chance of catching these dastards. 

“Well yeah, but...”

Gerome tugged on Minerva’s reins, and she ascended into the sky. Noire’s arms tightened around him. 

“Wait!” he heard Nah screaming below him. “Gerome! Wait!” 

Soon he was too far away to hear her cries. He couldn’t wait for her. Not when Inigo was out there and in the hands of those... monsters. 

 

“Gerome!” Nah continued to scream. “Gerome!”

But Minerva was flying at top speed. Soon they’d be out of sight. Nah grasped her head. _This wasn’t supposed to go like this!_ She thought of Inigo, still asleep in the wagon. She needed to go and wake him, but by the time she returned Gerome would be long gone. If she was going to have any hope of catching up to him she had to go now! 

“Inigo will be fine,” she told herself. “Someone else will find him. He’ll be fine.”

She squeezed her fist around her dragonstone and allowed herself to transform. 

“Gerome!” she kept shouting as her wings propelled her into the air. “Gerome!”

 

“Once again, I’m so thankful for the supplies you sold us,” Chrom said, for what must have been the twentieth time. 

“It’s really no trouble,” the tall man smiled. “I’m glad I could sell my wares without having to go all the way to the market. Now I can return home far sooner than intended.”

Chrom walked the man back to his wagon. It was a beautiful thing really, painted a vivid red and yellow. Impossible to miss. 

“Is home far?” Chrom asked. 

“Oh, yes. By conventional means. But fortunately I have a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to traveling through realms.”

The man waggled his fingers slightly. A blue spark jumped between them. 

“Anyway, I best be off,” he said. “Even with the aid of magic, it’s still a long journey back to Hoshido.”

“Safe travels,” Chrom smiled, and waved as the man and his peculiar wagon rolled away down the path. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided this fic might cross into the realm of Fates. I've been dying to have an attempt at Marxlow! XD


	3. Chapter 3

How were you supposed to tell someone that you’d faked their boyfriend’s kidnapping to save their relationship? And if such a way existed, then _when_ were you supposed to break this news?

“The things I do for love,” Nah muttered, as her wings struggled to keep up their pace. 

Minerva was really going for it. Nah didn’t think she’d ever seen the wyvern flying as fast as she was now, not even in battle. That made her nervous. Even if she did somehow survive confessing to Gerome, how was she meant to tell Minerva without being mauled? 

“Gerome!” she tried shouting again. “Gerome! Wait!”

But the masked man was still too far ahead to hear her. Nah groaned. What was she supposed to do now? Keep up with them until they landed? She knew Gerome wouldn’t land until he’d found the slaver’s camp. And there was no slaver’s camp. So how in the world was this going to end?

_So tired._ She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done so much flying. When she’d first arrived in this time, she’d been careful to do a twenty minute lap every day. But now she was traveling with the Shepherds, the Risen attacks becoming far less frequent, she’d given up her training in favour of lazy mornings and big meals in the mess tent. _Damn you, Stahl! You and your flawless cooking!_

How much longer until she was forced to give up? Maybe they’d stop if they saw her going in to land? Yeah, like she was their highest priority at the moment. Nah peered down at the forest below. The trees were packed in tight clusters. She’d have to crash through them to find the ground. But there was an open space up ahead, where some people had set up a...

Wait a moment! That was their camp! Were they just flying in circles? She looked back up at the distant wyvern, unsure if she was more frustrated or puzzled. If she’d known they were going to do this, she could have just gone and gotten Inigo herself and put an end to this charade instead of following behind like a...

Minerva dived towards the trees, wings held close to her body. Nah stared. Had they actually found something? If they’d accidentally stumbled across slavers and put an end to their terrible trade then she may be spared Gerome’s wrath yet. She was quick to tuck in her own wings, following the wyvern’s decent. As soon as her feet, touched the ground, she changed back to her manakete form. 

Gerome and Noire were already crouched behind the bushes, peering out at what they had spied from the air. Nah hastily joined them, while Minerva hung back behind trees that could conceal her. 

“Ten,” Gerome muttered under his breath. 

Noire snorted. 

“Really? I counted eleven.”

They glared at each other over Nah’s head, but she felt too sick with worry to roll her eyes. Because they hadn’t found slavers. All she could see from her hiding place was a chain of three wagons, positioned around a campfire. By the campfire, men and woman were eating stew and speaking in a language she couldn’t understand. Judging by the colourful, unusual-looking clothes they wore, she assumed they weren’t from Ylisse. Just travelers passing through, who were about to have a very nasty surprise. Unless she said something soon. She fiddled with her fingers. How to start...

“Where are you getting eleven from?” Gerome whisper-shouted. “There are clearly only ten of them. Six men and four women. See? Seven around the campfire, three sorting by the backs of the wagons.”

“And did you already forget about your beloved?” Noire seethed. “Or is that just a carpet I can see rolled up in the back of that far wagon?”

It actually was just a carpet. But Nah could see how it looked like a person, from here. It really was unfortunate that one of the travelers had left their shoes at the end of it. She supposed not everyone could be blessed with the eyesight of a manakete. 

“Wait,” Nah said, as she sensed Gerome tensing beside her. “I think you’re mistaken. These people aren’t slavers.”

“They’re the only other people in the area except for us,” Gerome replied, already reaching back for his axe. 

“Well did we really look that hard?” Nah couldn’t believe she was saying this. Did she seriously want to encourage them to do _more_ flying? “The forest goes on for miles, and really we only saw-”

“There’s no way they could have gone further,” Noire said sharply. “Even if Inigo was taken the moment Gerome thoughtlessly abandoned him, it’s impossible for them to have traveled further than what we searched.”

She reached over her shoulder, fitting an arrow into her bow. 

“He has to be here.”

Around the fire, one of the men said something that made everyone laugh. Nah began to sweat. _Tell them! Tell them now!_ But there was absolute murder in Noire’s eyes. Probably in Gerome’s as well, but it wasn’t possible to tell with his mask on. They’d kill her. Or take her dragonstone so that she’d have to walk all the way back to camp. 

Nah swallowed. Gerome and Noire weren’t stupid. Surely, once they’d leapt from the bushes, they’d realise they’d made a mistake. They’d see that these people were just innocent merchants and they could all have a big laugh about how they’d almost attacked them and send them on their merry way. Then, with all their other options exhausted, they’d be forced to return to camp to ask Chrom for help. At which point Inigo would have regained full consciousness and be wandering around for them to see. They’d be puzzled, sure, but he wouldn’t know what had happened. The incident would be forgotten, and no one would ever know it’d been her idea.

“What’s the plan?” Noire asked. “Shoot first and ask questions later?”

Nah tried to laugh this comment away, but her throat was too dry, and it just sounded like she was choking. 

“Inigo is our priority,” Gerome said. “Find him at any cost. If they resist us, we kill them.”

“ _Or_ ,” Nah said. “We could just ask nicely if we can have a look in their wagons, and then leave without hurting anyone?”

Gerome and Noire’s eyes met over her head again, and she knew what they were thinking. _Why is she here again?_

“Any questions?” Gerome asked, shifting his weight to pounce. 

“Well, actually,” Nah began, but they’d both already broken from their cover. 

The women screamed at the sight of them, and then people were trying to run. Noire released an arrow as a warning shot, prompting them all to stay exactly where they were, while Gerome rounded up the three stragglers who looked as though they were desperately searching through their stock for weapons. Nah bit her lip as she wandered to Noire’s side. Not what she’d hoped for, but so far so good. 

“Have you got him?” Noire called to Gerome.

“No. Your so-called eleventh man is a carpet,” was the frustrated response. 

The travelers were cowering under their colourful cloaks and squealing words that must have been pleas for mercy. It was so obvious that they weren’t slavers, or even warriors of any kind. Nah could see this. But Gerome and Noire didn’t. 

“Well where is he then?” Noire exclaimed. “Check the other wagons.”

“I have. He’s not here. It’s more carpets. It’s all carpets!”

A very flustered looking Gerome emerged from the final wagon, face reddened from exertion. There were whimpers as he strode towards the campfire, axe still in hand. 

“Who’s in charge here?” he demanded. “Which one of you runs this despicable trade?”

No one stepped forward. Whether it was because they didn’t understand his words, or they were too puzzled by his accusations, Nah did not know. She wasn’t sure where to look. It seemed every sight made her stomach roll with guilt. The cowering innocents. Gerome’s composure slowly coming undone. Noire’s rising panic. 

When the silence lasted for too long, Gerome kicked over their cauldron of brew. There was hardly any in there to spill, but Nah still felt her heart stutter painfully. _This isn’t going the way I hoped. I should really do something about it._

“I said,” Gerome repeated, voice firmer and darker. “Who’s in charge?”

“STEP FORWARD!” Noire yelled. “OR I SWEAR ON DARKEST NIGHT THAT YOU WILL REGRET YOUR SILENCE!”

“Oh, don’t use the talisman,” Nah sighed, watching the travelers shrink away. 

One woman had started crying, while her husband cradled her against his shoulder to try and keep her quiet. 

“We want to know where you keep your slaves,” Gerome spoke up. “We know you have them. So where are they? The slaves!”

Nah noticed the moment that one of the men understood Gerome’s words. Or one word in particular. _Slaves._ He repeated the word in his own tongue, and then the rest of the travelers were turning towards him and crying out in horror. _Slaves! Slaves!_ Nah wanted to drop her face into her hands. They thought Gerome and Noire were slavers. They thought they were going to be taken as slaves. 

Now, she knew a thing or two about the mentality of someone who thought they were losing their freedom. When Grima had destroyed the world and his Risen started rounding everyone up to bow or die, they’d fought him. They’d fought him with everything they had because their freedom was something they’d never give up, and if they had to die to keep it then so be it. If the moment ever came again, she knew she’d do the exact same thing: resist her captors, fight even if it seemed hopeless, maybe even sacrifice herself so that her friends could escape. 

And now she was watching the same thing happen, but against them. The cowering stopped. The whimpers turned into harsh shouts. People began to stand up. What was it Gerome had said? If they resist us, kill them? That was about to happen. Her friends were about to massacre a bunch of merchants who were trying to stay free. This was going too far. 

One of the men broke free of the group and charged towards Gerome. He wasn’t trained, had no combat experience, so it was easy for Gerome to knock his legs out from under him. He raised his axe, about to bring it down in a killing blow. _Now! It has to be now!_ Nah threw herself at him and clung onto the end of his axe, not allowing it to be lowered. 

“Gerome! Stop!” she gasped, her ears ringing. 

She couldn’t believe what he’d almost done, what she’d almost allowed him to do. 

“What are you doing?” Gerome demanded, trying to push her away. “This man is a slaver! He has Inigo!”

“No he doesn’t!”

“How can you be so sure? They’ve probably dropped him off at a secret stash. Who knows how long we have until he’s sold!”

“There is no secret stash and there are no slavers!” 

There, she’d said it. Gerome lowered his axe, watching her carefully. Even Noire had taken out her arrow, while the travelers stared at them in confusion. Everyone was waiting for her to say it. She didn’t want to say it. 

“I...” Nah fidgeted with one of her plaits. “I may have made the whole thing up. Inigo wasn’t taken. He’s back at camp. In a sleep. That... er... I put him into.”

Silence.  

“But the only reason I did it was because he thought you didn’t care about him. You should have seen him, Gerome. He’d really given up. But once he hears about this he’ll have no doubts, right? I mean, I’m sure he’ll be mildly horrified about what you almost did to this poor man, but once he gets past that there’s going to be loving. So... erm... yeah. Really you should be thanking me.”

Even more silence. 

“You’re welcome?”

Nah felt, rather than saw, the arrow that flew past her face. It might have grazed her ear, she wasn’t sure. 

“BLOOD AND THUNDER!” To say Noire was furious was an understatement. “YOU DARE DECEIVE US YOU INSECT! YOU DARE EXPLOIT OUR FEELINGS OF DEVOTION FOR YOUR OWN AMUSEMENT! DO YOU WISH FOR DEATH?”

“I’m... er...” Nah hastily backed away.

The travelers were making the most of their scuffle, packing their wagons and riding away as fast as they could. Nah was tempted to go with them, but she’d brought enough bad luck on them for one day. Noire continued to shout and scream at her, which was never a fun thing to experience, but even worse than that was Gerome. He still hadn’t said anything. He just stared at her with dead eyes and a dead expression, like he’d lost the ability to feel anything. 

“Please say something,” Nah begged. “I’m sorry. I really was trying to help you out. You weren’t supposed to run off like this.”

Noire had turned her attention to the logs that the travelers had been sitting on, and was kicking at them furiously. Minerva finally wandered out from the trees to see what the commotion was all about. 

“So he’s okay,” Gerome finally said. “Inigo is back at the camp and unharmed?”

“Yes,” Nah said. “I just gave him something to make him sleep and left him curled up somewhere safe.”

Gerome exhaled loudly, pinching his nose. Of all the emotions he could feel right now, relief had won. Nah felt her shoulders relax slightly. His relief might have just saved her skin.  

“Listen to me,” Gerome said calmly. “I am very, very angry at you right now. Unfathomably angry. And I’m sure later on I’ll find a way to show that to you. But right now, I just want to see that Inigo’s okay. I want to hold him in my arms and feel that he’s safe. Take me to him.”

“Of course,” Nah said, unable to help the jolt of genuine dread running down her back. “I’ll take you to him. Right away.”

“Good.”

Once Gerome and Noire were back on Minerva, Nah was able to breathe again. Maybe they wouldn’t be as angry as she’d first thought. Obviously they were entitled to feel some rage towards her (and unfathomable levels of it from Gerome were to be expected), but maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to understand her motivations. As long as they returned to camp and saw that Inigo was unharmed, they’d be able to forgive her. Eventually. 

As Nah transformed and took to the skies, she couldn’t help but feel a seed of unease sow itself in her stomach. _If_ Inigo was unharmed. Which, of course, he would be. He was in a wagon in the Shepherd’s camp. Safest place possible. So then why did she have a horrible feeling that something had gone terribly wrong? She overtook Minerva on the way back, her wings fueled by pure panic. 

_Inigo. You better still be where I left you!_

*

“You there! Halt!”

“Curses, not again,” the tall man muttered, as he pulled his wagon to a stop.

A group of Nohrian soldiers were riding towards him. One day, he really did need to find a way to perfect his traveling spell. It was always such a nuisance to be stopped when he rode through Nohr. If only he could make the magic take him all the way to Hoshido, but no, it always weakened halfway through. And now here he was again.

Such patrols had become common since the war ended. He expected the soldiers to check his identity papers and send him on his way, as they always did. But this time, something was different. The man who led the group... he seemed familiar. Tall and broad, with blonde hair that curled at the bottom, and a deep frown. Now where had he seen that face before?

“By the orders of King Xander of Nohr,” the blonde man said. “I demand to search this wagon and all its contents for traces of illegal artifacts.”

Oh, drat. 

“Illegal artifacts?” the tall man repeated, feigning ignorance. 

“Indeed. There have been reports of a smuggler in this area, bringing items from another realm and into our land. By both Nohrian and Hoshian law, this practise is outlawed and must have a stop put to it by any means.”

“I see,” the tall man said. “And who do you think you are, demanding such a thing as to invade my wagon?”

The blonde’s eyes narrowed. 

“King Xander of Nohr,” he said. 

“Oh.”

There was no way he could refuse a royal order when the royal who’d ordered it was right in front of him. He stepped down from his wagon and gestured to the back of it, indicating that the King and his soldiers should feel free to search. They wouldn’t find anything though. He always took care to hide goods like the ones they were looking for. There was absolutely nothing in the back of his wagon that would arouse suspicion. 

The King pulled back the curtains and the tall man’s eyes almost bulged out of his head when he saw a body lying there. Where in the world had _that_ come from? King Xander slowly turned to look at him. 

“Merchant,” he said. “Do you care to explain why you have an unconscious man in the back of your wagon?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” the tall man sighed, backing a way. 

He had a spell saved especially for a moment like this. It was a shame though. He’d grown fond of that wagon and would miss it dearly. 

“Goodbye.”

He vanished instantly in a puff of blue smoke, leaving the gawking soldiers and the frowning King to stare at the scorched grass. 

“Curses,” Xander said. “Next time we need to bring a mage of our own.”

They did indeed, the tall man thought, as he carefully walked away from his wagon. The spell had made him invisible, nothing more. If the soldiers were more attentive, they may have noticed the grass parting under his feet. Which was exactly why he needed to hurry. As curious as this situation was, and as much as he wanted to know how he’d ended up with a body in his wagon, he simply refused to be thrown in a Nohrian jail. 

He heard the King inhale sharply, and quickly spun back round, afraid they may have found his hidden compartment. They hadn’t. The King had simply gotten a better look at the young man in his wagon, who was now being propped up by two soldiers. The King’s face was pale as he reached towards the young man, but then stopped short as if he’d been burned, and drew his hand back. A strange mix of disbelief and caution was softening his hard eyes. Did he know the young man? What luck! Perhaps he’d be able to explain that this was a misunderstanding and he’d get his wagon back after all. 

Before he turned his attention back to escaping, he heard a name leave the King’s lips. 

“ _Laslow_?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I'm so sorry this took so long for me to update! I've been neglecting my Fire Emblem fanfics, but now I've started playing Fire Emblem Heroes and it's making me want to work on Fire Emblem stuff again. If you're still reading, thanks for sticking with this story so far. It'll get much more interesting in the next chapter! :)

The journey back was uncomfortable, to say the least. Gerome rode Minerva in silence, numb to the night wind on his face which normally brought him exhilaration. Noire was silent as well, her hold around his waist tight. But he suspected she was silent for a different reason. She was busy thinking about what she would do to Nah for deceiving them like this. Gerome was busy thinking _what did I almost do?_

He hadn’t been himself back at the slaver’s - no - _merchant’s_ camp. The thought of Inigo being tied up in the back of one of those wagons... that they would have seen him afraid and vulnerable, and still thought of him as nothing more than tradable goods... it made him see red. He’d almost been wishing for the slavers to act out of line. Just give him the chance to bury his axe in all of them... make them bleed, make them _die,_ for even daring to lay a hand on the prince...

Gerome blew out a deep breath, urging his tense body to settle down. Inigo was unharmed. Inigo was safe. Inigo would be in his arms the moment Minerva landed in the camp. Or maybe not. 

_He thought you didn’t care about him. You should have seen him, Gerome. He’d really given up._

His fight wasn’t over yet. Next enemy: himself. He knew he was an inadequate boyfriend. He knew Inigo deserved someone who showered him with daily affection, instead of constantly worrying about his safety. But this experience had shaken something inside of him. The fear of believing him gone, followed by the relief of hearing he was unharmed... it made him realise that there was something worse than failing the prince. Failing to protect Inigo was a tragedy, but the thought of him dying whilst believing he wasn’t loved was even worse. 

_Curses. I really should be thanking Nah._

Not that he’d tell her. Ever. And she wasn’t to breathe a word of what he’d almost done to that merchant. 

Gerome knew it wasn’t too late. He would make amends with Inigo. Tonight. He could surprise him with a romantic dinner in the woods, or take him dancing by the lake. Apologise for the way he’d made him feel these past few weeks. Assure him that there was no one else in the world he would rather be with. Even if the mere thought of doing so made Gerome’s cheeks burn. 

The camp came into view ahead, and Nah darted down towards the trees. Minerva followed. It was best not to land in the camp. The last thing they wanted was questions about where they’d been, and why they’d required flight to get there. As they approached camp, now on foot, they saw Stahl and some other Shepherds saddling up horses. 

“Where are you off to?” Noire asked. 

“Not far,” Stahl assured them. “We received word that some merchants were attacked by a couple of slavers, so we’re going to escort them to the edge of the forest.”

Noire bit her lip sheepishly, while Gerome tried to shield his flushing face with his hand. 

“Want to come?” Stahl asked. 

“Gods no!” Nah exclaimed. 

“Just keep walking,” Noire whispered, pushing her onwards. 

“Okay...” Stahl’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t call them out on their odd behaviour. “Make sure you kids get some food in you. Dinner’s already been served, but someone should be able to rustle up some leftovers for you. Those fresh supplies we got make a divine stew!”

Gerome kept his face hidden until they were well past Stahl. He hoped none of those merchants tried describing what their attackers had looked like, or they’d be in serious trouble.

He followed Nah towards the edge of the camp, where the supply wagons were stationed. They were fully stocked now, thanks to the man they’d stumbled across this morning. Gerome hadn’t seen him in person, but he’d heard about him through the idle chatter of the other Shepherds. Apparently he’d appeared out of nowhere, looking tense as a baby deer when he’d seen the army of Shepherds, but he’d immediately turned all smiles and charm the moment Chrom mentioned their need for supplies. 

Personally, Gerome thought it reckless to buy food from a stranger in the woods. Supposing the food was poisoned? He made a mental note to wait another hour before fetching stew for himself, just so he could see how the others reacted to it. 

He was so occupied by his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Nah had already come to a stop. Her face had turned to colour of sour milk. Gerome glanced over her head, expecting to see whatever wagon she’d hidden Inigo in. However, the space before them was empty.  He frowned. She better not have forgotten the way.

“Well then?” Noire prompted. “Which of these wagons did you leave him in?”

Nah’s chest began to heave, her eyes sparkling. She looked to Gerome like her life was flashing before her eyes. He felt dread turning his stomach. 

“Nah,” he warned her. “No more of your games. Take me to Inigo.”

“But I don’t understand,” she whimpered, lip trembling. “He was right here.”

“You left him lying on the ground?” Noire’s hand was creeping dangerously close to her talisman. 

“Of course not!” Nah snapped. “He was in a wagon! Right here! A red and yellow one. I swear!”

“We have no wagons of that colour,” Gerome said. 

He knew that for a fact. Frederick kept a list of each wagon and its contents, which he’d shown to his son on many occasions. Everything had to be exact. Appropriate supplies were packed together, so anyone looking for something would have access to the full selection of the stock. Everything was kept in same-size boxes, to ensure maximum efficiency whilst storing. And every wagon was painted the exact same shade of brown, one Frederick fondly referred to as woodmud. It allowed the wagons to blend into the surrounding forest, which in turn reduced the possibility of bandit attacks.  

Nah’s eyes had gone distant.

“But it was right here,” she said quietly. 

“CEASE YOUR FOOLISH PRATTLING!” Noire shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders, but the manakete didn’t even flinch. 

Gerome wanted to shake her for more information, but she was useless to him like this. Her head had gone almost limp, her eyes staring off into space. Even Noire’s shouts were probably nothing but a distant echo to her. So he ran back to the center of the camp. He heard people call to him as he went, but all of them were ignored. He didn’t even apologise when he almost knocked Sumia over. There was a buzzing in his ears, demanding that he get to Inigo’s tent _immediately_. The prince would be there. _He had to be._

He wasn’t. His bedroll hadn’t been tidied. A dirty plate from lunch still hadn’t been cleared away. The boots he’d meant to clean sat to the side, neglected. They were all chores Inigo would have completed over the coarse of the day, things he should have done by now. The fact that he hadn’t told Gerome he’d not been back to his tent since this morning. 

_Think, Gerome, think! Where else could he be?  
_ He ran through every potential location in his mind. It was too late for him to go dancing on his own (even he’d admit that), dinner in the mess tent had already been served, he wasn’t scheduled to do any chores today, he wouldn’t be sparring with Owain because his sword was here, lying next to the dirty boots. 

He couldn’t think of any more options. His throat felt like it was being crushed by a hand. His heart was stuttering, worse than it had after learning the truth at the merchant’s camp. He wanted to scream. He dug his fingers into his face, his jaw aching with the effort of holding it back. 

_Inigo! Where are you?!_

The tent felt too warm. He burst through the flaps and almost collided with Chrom, who had been about to step in. The older man caught him before he lost his footing and fell to the ground. 

“Ah! Gerome!” Chrom beamed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Every instinct that his father had ever instilled in him told him to be silent until Chrom was done speaking, but he couldn’t hold it back. 

“Have you seen Inigo anywhere?” he blurted. 

Chrom frowned. 

“No,” he said. “Actually I was hoping maybe you’d seen him?”

Gerome’s heart sunk. He shook his head and Chrom sighed. 

“That boy,” he muttered. “I have too many things I need to get done. May I be selfish and pass this burden onto you, Gerome? I have to run through our inventory with Frederick before tomorrow. Besides, I’m sure you’d have better luck finding Inigo than I would. He might actually _want_ to be found by you.”

Gerome couldn’t summon the words to respond, so he simply nodded. Chrom patted his shoulder in a sign of trust. 

“Excellent,” he said. “Please bring him to me when you’ve found him. I have much I need to say.”

“Chrom!” Nah’s voice called. 

She came running from between the tents, eyes wide, like she was about to tackle him. Noire was only just managing to keep up. 

“There was a wagon,” she said, before Chrom could ask why she looked like she’d just outrun a troupe of Risen. “A red and yellow one, at the edge of camp with the others.”

“Red and yellow?” Chrom’s eyes lit up. “Oh! You mean the merchant’s wagon?”

“The merchant?” Nah blurted. 

“Yes, the one we found this morning. He left a while ago. Wanted to hurry on back to his village.”

Chrom turned to leave, but Noire jumped into his path. 

“What village?” she asked breathlessly. “Did he say where it was? Or what it was called.”

“Hmm...” Chrom pinched his chin, humming. 

Nah held her breath, Noire leaned closer, and Gerome thought a prayer to every deity he’d ever known - the good ones and the bad. Finally, Chrom snapped his fingers and grinned, clearly pleased with himself. 

“Hoshido,” he said. “That was definitely it. His parting words were: ‘it’s a long way back to Hishido’.”

“Hoshido,” Nah repeated, already deep in thought. 

Gerome hadn’t ever heard of such a place. It certainly didn’t sound like anywhere in Ylisse, but he made sure to repeat the name several times in his head, until it was burned into his memory. Chrom was still looking pleased, smiling as he watched them all think. 

“Is someone going to tell me what this is all about?” he asked. “Is Robin testing my memory again? If so, you can tell him that my mind is as sharp as my blade, and won’t dull so easily. Now, I must get on and find Frederick. Do let me know once you’ve found Inigo, Gerome.”

Giving the wyvern rider another friendly clap on the back, Chrom strode away into the tents. They waited until he was out of sight before retreating to the very edge of the camp, where no sane person would be lurking at night. 

“Someone get a map. We need to find Hoshido,” Nah said.

“Did you just give us an order?” Noire crossed her arms, glaring darkly. “Need I remind you this is all your fault? If anyone should be running errands, it’s you.”

“No, it’s my fault,” Gerome finally said. 

Both the girls stared at him in bewilderment. 

“It really isn’t,” Noire insisted, and Gerome knew it pained her to say that. 

“It is,” he said. “Nah was the one with the foolish plan, but I was the one who made such action necessary.”

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” Nah said softly. “What’s important is that we all work together to find Inigo. He could wake up at any moment now, scared and confused and hopelessly lost in an unknown village.”

Gerome’s fists tightened. If Nah was trying to make him feel better, she was doing a terrible job. 

“But we know where to look, and we’ll have him found and back in camp before Chrom or anyone else notices. Once we find Hoshido, we find Inigo.”

“Ah, Hoshido.” 

The voice, low and thick, came from amongst the darkness of the trees. Nah squealed, Gerome raised his axe, his eyes widening behind his mask, and Noire just sighed. 

“Mother,” she grumbled. “How long have you been standing there?” 

The darkness parted around a slender figure, who chuckled as she began to walk towards them. Gerome lowered his weapon, but Nah remained looking just as terrified as before. After all, Tharja was as unpredictable as she was creepy. 

“Long enough to know that you three are up to something that Chrom wouldn’t approve of.” Tharja poked her daughter’s cheeks playfully and pouted. “Noire, I’m so upset. Weren’t you going to invite me to play along with whatever scheme you’re concocting?”

“It’s not a scheme,” Nah exclaimed. “It’s a rescue mission!”

Tharja’s dark eyes flitted to Nah, and the manakete shrunk away, wishing very much that she’d kept her mouth shut. Gerome sighed. He had to admit, when he’d first joined the Shepherds, he’d been just as unnerved by Tharja as Nah was now. This was the woman who’d given Noire her talisman, the dark mage who’d used to work for Plegia and likely would have helped them resurrect the Fell Dragon if she’d ever believed they had a chance of succeeding. 

But after months of living in the same camp as her, Gerome had long since realised that Tharja’s bark was worse than her bite. She was as much a Shepherd as any of them. Any talk of forbidden curses or dark summonings was simply her way of amusing herself, and who could blame her for being amused when some people reacted as pathetically as Nah. She’d earned Gerome’s trust the day she’d blocked an attack meant for Inigo, and he hadn’t been cautious of her since. 

“You sounded like you’ve heard of Hoshido before,” he said, sensing Nah was moments away from fleeing. 

Tharja turned her eyes to him instead. He stared back, showing he wasn’t afraid. She smirked. 

“We all have a past,” she said. “Mine was in Hoshido. It was so long ago, I was an entirely different person back then.”

“What?” Noire exclaimed. 

Clearly this was the first she’d ever heard on the matter, but Gerome wasn’t about to let the conversation turn into a mother-daughter confession session. He silenced whatever else Noire had been about to say with a look. She frowned and lowered her eyes to her fidgeting hands. 

“So you know where it is?” he clarified.

“Of course,” Tharja said. “But I must say, if you’re planning to visit, you’ll have some difficulty.”

“And why is that?” Gerome demanded. 

His imagination swum with a variety of potential obstacles: monsters lurking on the outskirts of Hoshido’s borders, a great army of warriors who allowed none to pass into their homeland, giant walls, impassable chasms. Whatever the problem was, he wouldn’t let it stop him. Even if he had to ride to the edge of the world and back, he would find Inigo and return him to the Shepherds unharmed. 

Tharja’s smile widened. 

“Because Hoshido is in another realm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter: Inigo finally wakes up. 
> 
> Also is anyone else playing Fire Emblem Heroes? I only just started playing it, but it's really addictive! Still haven't summoned Laslow yet, but I got Olivia and Chrom, so I'm happy about that! :)  
> My friend code is 7280325375. Feel free to add me if you want! ^-^


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while since this was updated! Sorry about that. You can thank Fire Emblem Heroes for the update. Now that Gerome's in the game I'm feeling super motivated to get my Geroazu fics finished. Next update will be on Dance For Me (which I realise hasn't been updated in like 2 years... damn!)

_What was in that tea?_

This was the first thought that went through Inigo’s mind as he slowly regained consciousness. He might have blamed the tiredness that had suddenly overcome him on the sleepless night he’d spent worrying about his failing relationship, or on the fact that he’d skipped breakfast that morning. But no, his head had began to swim the moment the bitter tea had passed his lips. Nah had drugged him. He frowned at the idea. He expected this kind of behaviour from Noire, but Nah? What had she been thinking?

“Damn manakete,” he mumbled, while his hand came up to rub his heavy eyelids. 

Someone released a breath they’d been holding, and a low and unfamiliar voice spoke from beside him. “You’re awake.”

Inigo’s eyes snapped open. Last he remembered, he’d been sharing tea in the back of a jazzy wagon with Nah. Now, he was looking up at a ceiling. Not the rafters of a wagon, or the inside of a tent. A proper, solid ceiling, with a chandelier and painted murals and everything. He rolled onto his side, a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach.

The man sitting beside his bed was a complete stranger. Inigo knew for sure that he’d never met him before, because the man’s face wasn’t a face one would forget. He was handsome, in a stern, regal kind of way, with curled blonde hair and a spiked black band sitting atop his head like a gothic crown. But his eyes were an oddity. Deep red - like blood mixed with chocolate, wine spilled into broth, rose petals falling into mud...

Inigo could have lain there and thought of comparisons until the cows came home, but the man was clearly not content with the silence and stillness of their encounter. With a gentle smile, he reached for Inigo’s hand. And Inigo rolled off the other side of the bed, landing with an _oof!_ on plush, carpeted floor. The man was immediately standing, peering over the bed with a look of concern. 

“Laslow? Are you alright?”

Inigo checked behind him, in case there was a third person in the room who he hadn’t yet noticed. But Laslow, whoever he was, wasn’t here. He did, however, spy a polished desk made of dark mahogany, rich red drapes that stretched from the marble floor all the way up to the high ceiling, and a set of gold rimmed furniture that had been arranged for a group of people to have tea together.

The man carefully moved towards Inigo, as if he were a startled deer who might still flee. 

“Laslow?” he said again, and Inigo realised with alarm that the man was addressing him.

_He_ was Laslow, apparently. 

“Sorry, I think you’re mistaken. I’m not Laslow.”

Rather than looking embarrassed, the man seemed concerned. His lips pressed into an even firmer line, eyebrows pinching to make his already piercing eyes seem even sharper. If not for the gentle way he’d spoken before, Inigo would have thought him a brute incapable of feeling compassion or empathy. 

“Are you sure? You look just like him. Except for the colour of your hair, and your eyes, and, well, you do seem younger than he was last I saw him.”

With a fond, sheepish smile, the man offered Inigo a hand to help him stand. Inigo, intrigued, accepted it. He felt both nervous and enthralled to know he had a doppleganger roaming around. Supposing he found him and invited him to join the Shepherds. Oh, the fun they could have. 

The man’s hand was rough in his own. Definitely a warrior then, which was no surprise when you considered the sheer hulk of him. The breadth of his chest and shoulders would have put even Frederick to shame. And of course, Inigo could not think of Frederick without also thinking of his stoic, masked son. He quickly cut that thought off at the roots. 

Even though he was now upright, the man’s hand still held his own. He was examining Inigo’s face, scrutinising it with an intensity that made him flush. 

“Like what you see?” Inigo tried to mask his nerves with a tease, but it only heightened the man’s interest.

“You even sound like him,” he said, with a breathless chuckle. “He was an insatiable flirt too... Not that I’m calling you a flirt! Forgive me... But, I cannot believe that you are not Laslow.”

“Who even is Laslow?” Inigo asked, snatching his hand away. “And who are you? Where am I? How did I get here? Why do you keep looking at me like that?!”

In truth, Inigo couldn’t deny that he felt flattered by the man’s gaze. No one had ever looked at him like that, except maybe Noire and Gerome. But Noire’s gaze had been more unnerving than gentle, and Gerome’s had been hidden by his mask. If he’d even been making that expression in the first place, Inigo thought bitterly. 

“Forgive me.” The man regained his composure and drew himself up to his full height. “I am King Xander of Nohr, at your service. You are currently residing in my private chamber in Castle Krakenburg, at the centre of Windmire. I brought you here after I found you in the back of a suspicious wagon in the possession of a known smuggler.”

_Smuggler?!_ Alarm bells blared in Inigo’s head. Had he been kidnapped? Had Nah been in on it? Was it even the real Nah he’d joined for tea, or just an enemy mage disguised by an illusion? He felt faint as more serious concerns presented themselves. Did anyone realise he was missing? Would they know where to find him? How would he get home?

“Perhaps you ought to sit down,” Xander advised, and Inigo was still shaken so he allowed the King to guide him to a chair. 

Then another chilling thought swept through his mind: what if Xander was behind the whole thing? What if he’d mistaken Inigo for this dastard Laslow, paid some mages to steal him away, and then pretended to have saved him in an attempt to gain his trust? Well, that wasn’t going to work! And the joke was on him: Inigo was not Laslow. The sooner he proved that, maybe he’d be returned?

“So, you believe I am this Laslow fellow because of my appearance?” Inigo tried to sound casual, but his words came out sharp. Not that Xander seemed to notice. He’d gone back to scrutinising again. 

“Yes, mostly. His was not a face I would easily forget.” Xander had a distant look in his eyes. “He was my retainer. Turned up one day out of the blue and held his own against me in a duel. He served me all through the war against Hoshido, but he was so much more than just a retainer. He was my confident, he cheered me up on the darkest nights, and he stayed faithfully by my side through thick and thin, right up until the very end. Though he was the last person in the world you’d think would hold the position of royal retainer. He was informal, frequented taverns and tea shops, constantly got into fights with the husbands of those he flirted with, and was always the last one to bed in the evening. But he was loyal, faithful, never wronged anyone on purpose, always encouraged those around him to smile, and he had the most wonderful dance technique.”

_And I loved him._

That was the impression Inigo was getting from Xander’s words. Though the King did not say it, which led Inigo to wonder if maybe Laslow had disappeared before he’d had the chance to confess. Inigo rubbed the back of his neck nervously, beginning to sweat. Because damn, the man Xander described did sound like himself. It was freaking him out.

“After the war, Laslow confessed that he had not come from Nohr. He had travelled here from a different realm, and now that the war was over, he would need to return there. He told me it was possible for him to return, but he wasn’t sure whether he’d do so. Returning would cost him something. He warned me what may happen. His appearance may be altered. His name may be different. His memories may have been tampered with. But I swore I’d know him should he come back, and I’d protect him as he once protected me.”

Xander’s words were so firm, so full of hope, that Inigo almost wished he were Laslow. To have one devote themselves to you so wholly... The treacherous part of his mind reminded him that Gerome was devoted, Gerome was loyal. In fact, too loyal. Inigo could still recall the moments in battle when he’d been struggling against multiple enemies and Gerome would rush carelessly to his aid, or when he’d intercepted an attack that would only have injured Inigo, and yet left him severely wounded. Inigo shook the thoughts away.

Xander saw this and beamed, mistaking Inigo’s frown for the expression of one who was struggling with strange memories. 

“I know it is you, Laslow,” Xander said. “You have forgotten me, but I would never forget you.”

“No, I promise you I’m not Laslow! I’m Inigo, the prin-” Inigo bit his tongue. No, better not to tell Xander he was the prince of another realm. Not until he could prove that the whole kidnapping conspiracy was just in his head. “I’ve never been to Nohr in my life. And it can’t be because I forgot it - there’s no gap in my memories that I could have come during.”

“You cannot trust your memories.” Xander rose from his own seat, eyes burning. “Clearly they have been altered. Some stolen, some replaced with false ones. But it does not bother me. You are still Laslow. So trust what is before you. Trust in me, as you did when we fought side by side. Because I know I made a huge mistake in allowing you to leave me. If only I’d told you... perhaps then you might have stayed.” 

Xander fell silent, and Inigo could tell this was an idea he had spent many sleepless night contemplating. His heart ached on Xander’s behalf. He knew how it felt to lose sleep to the quarrels of love. _Unlike Gerome..._

“I loved you,” Xander finally said, so quietly that Inigo almost missed it. “I never had the chance to tell you. No, that’s a lie. There were plenty of chances. I was just a fool. A cowardly fool, left to feel regret. Maybe you didn’t want to leave. Maybe you were hoping I would finally say it, when faced with the prospect of losing you. And I failed you.”

Xander’s eyes snapped back to Inigo. 

“And yet despite that, you have returned to me. Now I have my second chance and I will not waste it. I swear on the blood of the Dusk Dragon that no matter how long it takes, even if you never truly remember everything, I will spend every day proving my love to you. And, if needs be, I shall make you fall in love with me again.”

Hot damn, King Xander was intense. Inigo wanted to cover his flaming cheeks, but he was frozen in place by the yearning in Xander’s voice. The King loved Laslow, he loved him with a consuming, contagious passion that made Inigo’s heart drum with anticipation. How nice it might be to be on the receiving end of such a love. To be with a man who wasn’t afraid of making dramatic declarations, who didn’t shy away from public displays. A man who actually enjoyed being with him, who treasured every moment. A man with such open honesty in his expression, and tenderness in his gaze. 

_But home, the Shepherds, Gerome..._

Inigo mentally slapped that treacherous conscience of his. What could he do? He was lost in a foreign land, with no idea how to get back to Ylisse. Besides, he was a prince. The Shepherds would find him, eventually. Until then, it would be rude not to enjoy Xander’s very generous hospitality. And if the King was so convinced that he was Laslow, so determined to make him fall in love with him, then who was Inigo to say no? He’d been as honest as he could. 

_But Gerome..._

Inigo ground his teeth. Screw Gerome! He knew exactly what would go through the masked man’s head when he realised Inigo was missing: shame. Shame that he’d failed to protect him, and disappointment at failing his duty. Nothing more. No stuttering of his heart, no wrenching his hands with worry, or tearing at his hair with despair. He wouldn’t miss him. He would be concerned, yes, and worried about his well-being, but so would every other Shepherd. 

There would be nothing special about Gerome’s feelings, because to Gerome, there was nothing special about Inigo, and the relationship they’d had. Inigo rubbed at his eyes, yawning to disguise the gathering tears. He didn’t want to cry anymore over Gerome. He wanted to be happy. Didn’t he deserve that chance?

Xander offered him his hand. 

“Will you allow me to have tea with you?” he asked, smiling hopefully.

And Inigo smiled back. “I will.”

*

“That doesn’t make sense,” Noire protested, while Tharja still smiled at them playfully. “If Hoshido is from another realm, then how did that merchant come to us?”

The better question would be: _how did Tharja come to Ylisse from another realm? And why?_ Was she a fugitive from Hoshido? Had she done things there that were so unspeakable that she’d needed to travel to a new world to start a new life? Nah was desperate to know, but she wouldn’t dare ask. It was never worth risking Tharja’s wrath.

Gerome was completely silent, absorbing every word Tharja said. It was lucky Noire was with them, or Nah doubted any questions would be getting asked. And by the gods, did they need answers. 

“There are some spells and charms that can transport the wielder between realms, but they are rare and difficult to master. Plus they can only be used in certain locations, where the borders between realms are weak.” Tharja chuckled to herself. “I thought I sensed an aura of great power around that merchant. We shall have to chat, should we ever cross paths with him again.”

“We most definitely will be crossing paths with him again!” Nah exclaimed, unable to remain silent any longer. “If the dastard has Inigo then we need to find him!”

Tharja smirked, her eyes sliding to the cowering manakete like snakes gliding over the body of a kill. 

“Careful, Nah,” she said slyly. “With a tone like that, one might think you had just issued me an order. And I don’t follow orders from you, not without the right price.”

Nah felt her throat growing tight. Tharja couldn’t withhold her help. This wasn’t a game, or a prank gone wrong. Inigo’s life was potentially on the line here. If she truly was a Shepherd, then it was her sworn duty to help the prince. Not to hold anything that could help him at ransom...

To her surprise, Gerome stepped forward. He looked Tharja dead in the eye. Nah anticipated a threat, or a warning. _Come on, Gerome,_ she urged in her head. _Go all psycho-protective boyfriend on that fiend!_ Even Tharja would have to back down in the masked face of him and his wyvern. But Gerome must have been saving his fight for the merchant, because instead he lowered his head.

“Whatever price needs to be paid, I will pay it,” he said. “Inigo is my responsibility. The blame for his abduction rests on me, and so I will be the one to make amends.”

“And me,” Nah said, stepping forward too but keeping him between herself and Tharja. “I can’t help but feel partially responsible for this. So I’ll pay too.”

“Partially? Are you kidding me! This is completely your fault!” Noire thundered, but Tharja didn’t turn to her. She was regarding Gerome and Nah carefully. 

Finally, her manic smile dimmed to a regular one. 

“I will admit, it would not be beneficial for me should Chrom discover his son’s absence. He would march the Shepherds to Hoshido immediately, and that is a part of my life I would rather leave rooted in the past. So I will help you find him. My price will be fair as well. I will require only that you two be the ones to collect the last ingredient I will need to create a charm. Noire will remain here and help me prepare the others. Agreed?”

Nah nodded straight away, caught off guard. Tharja’s offer seemed... reasonable. That should have made her suspicious, but honestly she wanted this unpleasant business to be over as soon as possible. Gerome was smarter, and held his agreement. 

“What is the ingredient?” he asked. 

And just like that, Tharja’s smile turned manic again. 

“A fang from a very special, very violent creature known to Plegians as the Oozer.”

Nah gaped at Gerome, who held his composure. She’d never heard of such a creature, and she didn’t want to. But she’d already agreed, and Tharja would definitely keep her to her word. The dark mage clapped Nah on her shoulder. 

“Pack your bags, hero. You’re going hunting. And trust me when I say that this is one creature a dragon definitely won’t want to sink their fangs into.”


End file.
